


The Disgusting Things that Curl in our Souls

by Silverskye13



Series: The Stairs to the Core (Grillster Stories) [10]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskye13/pseuds/Silverskye13
Summary: Grillby is quiet, that much is certain. But when Gaster stumbles upon the remains of a more disturbing piece of Grillby's quiet that he'd kept hidden away, the doctor is left reeling. How close had he come to losing his friend?And why hadn't he noticed it sooner?Warning to all ReadersThis is dark head-space city. If you are or can be triggered by depictions of emotional stress, depression, self-loathing, or references to suicide, please read cautiously.I'd also like to note now that this might offend people who are touchy about the above mentioned topics so... trust me when I say I have good intentions.





	

“This is pathetic,” Grillby hummed, his voice full of humor, “It’s official, I’m an old man.”

He’d been standing in the kitchen for the better part of ten minutes, staring down at the small print of a recipe Gaster had gotten for him, unable to read a word. Gaster had to chuckle - it didn’t help his scrawled, symbol-like writing was almost unreadable to a _normal_ pair of eyes. But the elemental had asked for a new recipe and Gaster had been in a little too big of a hurry leaving the office that evening to bother with configuring their new printer. So, hard-to-read Gaster handwriting they were stuck with!

“Hey, I’m older than you are,” Gaster chuckled jokingly, elbowing Grillby lightly in the side, “What does that make me?”

“ _Old_ ,” Grillby flickered a grin, “Alright, I’ll get the oven heated at least. Mind grabbing my glasses for me?”

“Why don’t I just read you the recipe?”

“Oh _please_ ,” Grillby laughed, “Under your instruction we’ll probably burn my kitchen down.”

Gaster shrugged - Grillby had a point.

“Glasses are on the bedside table.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” Gaster chuckled with a fake salute, and then ambled off into the other room. Behind him he could hear Grillby muttering as he tried to read the recipe again. Gaster smiled to himself - he better hurry and find those glasses before the elemental drove himself insane.

Walking through Grillby’s house was always the most tranquil sort of strange. Everything was neatly kept and dusted, almost meticulously cared for. Gaster always got the feeling he was walking through a museum or church or other well-upkept building, rather than a house that someone actually _lived in_. Which was fine. Gaster wouldn’t judge Grillby wanting some control in his life. Gods knew the elemental had lacked it enough in the past.

Still, Gaster preferred keeping his own house looking a little like monsters actually existed there.

Grillby’s bedroom was no exception to the order, which made it all the more surprising when Gaster didn’t see the elemental’s glasses where he’d been told they’d be.

“They’re not here, Grillby,” Gaster called back into the other room, fumbling around the nightstand a bit as he checked.

“They’re there _somewhere_ ,” came Grillby’s reply, muffled behind the walls of the house. There was a pause and then, “Does this say _three_ tablespoons or _eight?_ ”

“Probably eight,” Gaster called back with a sarcastic laugh, knowing full and well that the recipe didn’t call for something like that. He heard Grillby’s disgruntled huff from the other room.

Okay. _Glasses_. If he were glasses, where would he hide?

Gaster felt all around behind the nightstand itself, checked either side, and wandered over to Grillby’s dresser to check there as well. He made a short circuit around the room before finally coming back to the side of the bed and shuffling around there again. Maybe Grillby had managed to kick them under the bed somehow? He reached and fumbled, coming up with a fist full of dust the first couple of tries before finally his hand bumped something. Gaster smirked and grabbed for it, letting out a satisfied sigh when his fingers curled around the long end of a wire frame.

When he pulled his arm back from under the bed he frowned. Apparently his sleeve had caught something else up while he was reaching. It was a piece of paper, crumpled up until it was impossibly small. It had been crumpled in on itself in such a way that most of the words were hidden. Huh. Well it wasn’t normally like Grillby to just forget trash on the floor. Unless maybe he’d managed to kick it under the bed along with his glasses.

With a shrug, Gaster stood to leave, content to drop the little ball off in the trash can. He turned it in his hands thoughtfully and frowned. He’d managed to find a place where the words were legible, where one end of the page had been crumpled in the wrong direction. Gaster could just make out Grillby’s small, tightly knit script.

_“Gaster, If you’re reading this -”_

Was this meant for him…?

Gaster tilted his head in the direction of the doorway, listening to the sounds of Grillby moving pots and pans around. The elemental was still trying to cook valiantly - even if he couldn’t rightly read the recipe. Gaster looked down at the wad of paper in his hands. Normally he wouldn’t pry but… it _was_ addressed to Gaster right? This was probably a bad idea, but curiosity was gnawing at him, along with a strange sense of dread. He… didn’t like how this note had started. Glancing back over his shoulder one last time, Gaster uncrumpled the page. He… honestly didn’t know what he’d been expecting to see but… what he saw felt like a punch in the chest.

_“If you’re reading this, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t strong enough.”_

Gaster looked back over his shoulder again, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious. He’d… he’d stumbled on something hadn’t he? He’d… this… Grillby probably wouldn’t want him reading this. He was suddenly _so sure_ of that. Hell, crumpled and kicked away as it was, Grillby probably didn’t even know this thing still existed. Gaster should throw it away for him. He should stop prying. He shouldn’t… he… but that first line was _terrifying_. How long ago was this even written? There was no date it was just… it was just here.

Cautiously, Gaster kept reading.

_“Actually… I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’m sorry I ended up like this. I’ve been trying for so long and I honestly think this is for the best. This was going to happen eventually and I knew if I dragged it out long enough I would just end up taking you with me. I don’t want to wait for that. I don’t want to wait until I’m weak and falling down and you’re falling too._

_This is for the best. It has to be._

_And I’m sorry because you’ll never find what’s left of me. The river is unforgiving like that.”_

Gaster slipped a hand up to cover his mouth just in time for a wheezing, choking sound to wince it’s way past his teeth. He dared another look towards the kitchen, feeling panic rising up in his ribcage. _Grillby_.

_“But I feel like that’s okay. It would just take my dust to the Core anyway, right? And that’s where you always are. I’ll be close by I guess.”_

For Gaster, the real message ended there. The rest of it was just a laundry list of what to do with the store and which of his customers still had tabs open that would need closed somehow, and where that money was supposed to go and why and… Gaster had no idea when he’d ended up on the floor but he did. He was on his knees beside Grillby’s bed, the elemental’s glasses clutched in one hand while he poured over the desperate note clenched in his other. He read it over and over again, shaking and trying not to cry.

_“… if you’re reading this I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough…”_

“So!”

Gaster jolted when Grillby’s voice was suddenly sounding _entirely too close_ to him. He snapped his head up in time to see the elemental amble through the doorway, still holding the recipe and squinting at it.

“I think this calls for… eggs? And I don’t have any. So do you mind if we just heat up some pi -”

Grillby glanced up, the humorous curl of a smirk on his mouth sinking away, “- zza… why are you on the floor?”

Gaster blinked up at Grillby, for a few seconds everything from his body to his soul numb. It was with painstaking care and barely withheld emotion that Gaster managed to ask:

“Grillby… what is this?”

For a few seconds the elemental was nothing but confused, peering down at Gaster, mouth opening slightly to answer. Then realization seemed to dawn on him, and a grim flicker like a shiver twisted his flame. Gaster watched as everything about Grillby’s emotions shifted. It was like watching the barrier raise all over again. All humor dropped out of Grillby’s features, all confusion and pretense. Suddenly his whole body was stiff and still, a statue made of flames with a gaze that was heavy and cold.

Gaster didn’t know how to feel. He was… horrified. And ashamed. And worried. But above all the rest of it he felt the childish regret of someone who’d been caught red-handed doing something they shouldn’t, and for several long moments he was left feeling like that. Neither him nor Grillby said anything. They both just stared at the invisible wall of silence that stretched ever thicker the longer Grillby refused to answer.

Finally the elemental managed a tense and defensive, “It’s nothing.”

“Really?” Gaster asked with a terrified laugh, “ _That’s_ your answer? _Nothing?”_

Grillby sighed, but nothing about that wall of insidious quiet crumbled when he did. The sigh wasn’t defeated. It promised no explanation. It was irritable and fierce if nothing else. It was bitter, and when Grillby looked back at Gaster again he was glaring. He held out a hand towards the skeleton still curled up on the floor.

“Give that to me,” Grillby demanded, his voice a calculated sort of callous.

“Why?”

Grillby scowled, “Because it wasn’t meant for you to see. Now give it here.”

“ _Really?”_ Gaster piped, his voice shrill and worried in his throat, “Because it’s _addressed to me_ , firefly! And it’s the scariest shit I’ve ever read.”

“Gaster -”

“ _Explain this!”_ Gaster snapped, and he didn’t know if it was his fear or his worry that was making him shout, “Now. Or I’m dragging you to the nearest hospital.”

Somehow Grillby had the nerve to _laugh_ , “I doubt you can drag me all the way to the Capital, Gaster.”

“We’re about to _find out,”_ Gaster threatened, getting to his feet.

Once again that wall of silence split the air between them, so thick and bitter Gaster could almost taste it. The two glared at each other, Gaster noticeably shaking. But the air was building with the threat of his magic, and _this_ seemed to make the elemental back down. Begrudgingly. Honestly, Gaster knew if for some reason the two fought, Grillby would win. But Grillby was too soft-hearted to ever bring his magic to bear on Gaster, and it was _that fact_ that turned the glaring contest in Gaster’s favor. The elemental turned away from him, scowling as he backed out of the doorway.

“Well we’re not talking in the fucking bedroom,” Grillby grumbled, disappearing back towards the front of the house. Gaster watched the space where Grillby had been standing, lingering only long enough to take a bracing breath before following. By the time he made it to the little table Grillby had set up in his kitchen, the elemental was already flopping down heavily in one of the chairs, slamming a bottle of some alcohol and a glass on the table before him in the same motion. Gaster sat more delicately, feeling very much like he was trying to walk through a minefield. Like one wrong step would set Grillby off in some self-destructive spiral.

Gaster waited patiently and quietly, the damning little note still in his hands. He waited until Grillby had downed a shot of whatever foul stuff he was drinking, watching as the bartender somehow managed to stay unreadable. All he looked was guarded and irritated, and now he stared at the bottle of whatever he was drinking as if he could somehow escape the conversation through it.

Gaster cleared his nonexistent throat, “Explain.”

Grillby didn’t look at him, the elemental’s gaze grinding into the nearest wall as if his life depended on it. He fidgeted quietly, his knee bouncing, the fingers of a hand tapping on the table. Thinking. Planning.

And, Gaster thought, probably deciding if he was going to lie.

Finally Grillby sighed, a motion that emptied a lungful of tense smoke into the air, “You remember last year when I started having nightmares again?”

Gaster felt some sort of relief worm it’s way through his ribs. For a few seconds he’d thought Grillby might not say anything, “Yeah. You were exhausted all the time. It took a lot out of you.”

“That was a lie.”

Grillby still wasn’t looking at him, though his hand had switched from tapping at the table to tilting the bottle two and fro, sometimes threatening to drop it on the table when his hands jittered a bit too much. He was nervous.

“I wasn’t tired because of any nightmares. I was just… tired,” Grillby confessed his words clipped and short, his voice weary, “Of everything. Really _really tired._ The only reason I got up in the morning was because I knew you were coming to walk me to work. Some days after you left I just laid around and waited for you to come back in the evening. I didn’t even bother opening the bar.”

Gaster could hardly believe what he was hearing. There was no way. That… didn’t sound like Grillby at all. He was always hard-working and meticulous. Sometimes he worked himself to _exhaustion_. It didn’t sound like him at all to just… do nothing.

“ _Why?”_ Gaster asked, trying not to sound as incredulous as he felt, trying to sound somehow supportive and not horrified.

Grillby still refused to look at him, “It… wasn’t worth it. I didn’t think anything was worth it.”

Grillby sighed and repeated quietly, miserably, “Nothing was worth it.”

He closed his eyes and bowed his head just slightly, some vestige of a flinch, “I don’t know what was wrong with me okay? Don’t ask. I just… I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was too dark. I felt desperate. And then I wouldn’t work because I was feeling too terrible and then I was struggling to pay bills for this place because I wasn’t working and it made me feel worse so I didn’t work… It was a spiral that just kept going. I was tired of feeling miserable and worthless and one day I… realized…”

Grillby ran a hand through the flame on his head, his voice dropping into something like a murmur, “I realized how easy it would be to just… end it. I could just walk into the river and not have to deal with it anymore.”

Silence crept it’s way between them again, but this time raw and vulnerable. It ground at Gaster’s soul as if everything he was made of were some exposed livewire. And yet Gaster himself felt like he was pinned to his chair. He couldn’t move. He could hardly breathe. He was mortified by what he was hearing; _terrified_ that something like this could happen just below his notice.

Grillby unscrewed the lid on the bottle he had and poured himself another glass. He didn’t drink it yet though - instead settling on rolling the liquid around in the glass and watching it turn, the light of his flame refracting off of it smoothly.

“It was… more than just the bar,” he admitted quietly, “I’d been feeling like shit for a while. I just… I dunno. I coped better before. This time I didn’t. So I started doing stupid things like taking walks through Waterfall, waiting for some monster to startle and accidentally dust me with a water attack or… I dunno… see if I might trip and fall into something that would kill me. And then I started going down by the river to just… see what it was like. I guess… just… trying to figure out how far gone I was.”

Grillby shrugged, “I figured at some point I would finally get the courage to just wade in.”

Grillby finally threw back his glass, downing the contents with the kind of desperate quickness of someone who regretted being coherent. But instead of slamming the glass back on the table when he was done, he just sort of stared at it, looking mildly disappointed that the drink was gone. With nothing else to stop him from talking, he started talking again.

“I don’t actually remember when I wrote that shit,” Grillby admitted, still staring at his glass with a sort of distant disappointment, “Just that I wrote it. And in the middle of the night after, I walked down to the river and I found some place to sit and I… stayed there for a while. Daring myself to end it.”

Gaster was shaking again, and he had to hug himself to keep from chattering as he did. He was a bundle of nervous tension wrapped up in fear. He felt like he was listening to a horror story. Worse than that, this was _real_. This had _almost happened_. Gaster… really he felt like crying. And panicking. And on the same hand he wanted to lunge across the table and wrap Grillby up in a hug and demand he stop talking. He didn’t need or want to hear any more of this. How could this have happened? _How had he not noticed it?_

Grillby let out a hollow sort of laugh, “Funnily enough… it was dumb luck that I didn’t go through with it. Some kids happened to pass by and I… got scared I guess. I didn’t want anyone to see me do that, let alone _kids_. And I told myself I’d go back later that night but you called me from the labs and I fell asleep talking to you on the phone. The next morning I woke up feeling like I was useless because I couldn’t go through with it.”

He flashed Gaster a dismal smile, “I didn’t get out of bed that day and -”

“- and I kept you company,” Gaster finished for him, realization dawning, “And that was the first time I’d ever seen you sick.”

A paused passed between them.

“You weren’t sick.”

Grillby nodded, averting his gaze again, uncomfortable, “I… _was_ sick. Just with something... different… than what I told you.”

Grillby frowned at nothing, “I never really tried it again. I mean… I still took a couple walks a little too close but… I couldn’t bring myself to _really_ think about… I mean… I didn’t…”

Grillby sighed, another long wisp of bitter smoke curling through the air with his breath, “I felt like you deserved more.”

Gaster winced at that. He didn’t like how bitter the sentence sounded, “I deserved more _what?”_

Grillby shrugged, “I dunno… explanation? Comfort? I… gods this is hard to explain. I’m sorry.”

Grillby ran a hand across the flames on his head, his voice wavering with emotion. He sounded like he might cry, “I felt terrible Gaster. I can’t even describe… I… looking back on it now most of that time I spent feeling like that is just a blur. I can’t even remember it properly. It was like all the color drained out of everything. All I thought was that I was making everyone else’s lives worse. I thought… I thought I only had one option left if I didn’t want to drag anyone else - if I didn’t want to drag _you_ down with me. But I just…”

Grillby made an aggravated sign with his hands, a movement so sharp and bitter it made Gaster flinch, “I just _couldn’t_. Talking to you on the phone the night I almost did it… it hit me that you care too much. I was _sure_ if I killed myself you’d do the same thing and I didn’t _want that_. I wanted to _stop_ hurting you that was the _whole point_. And I reread that stupid note and I realized it didn’t help anything. You wouldn’t be consoled in the least.”

Grillby ran another hand across his head, eyes screwed shut, mouth in an exasperated grimace, “I tried rewriting it a thousand times and I could never say anything right. No matter what I did I always sounded like I was just making excuses or… being selfish or accusing or… it just… wasn’t right. It wasn’t a goodbye it was just me being… depressed.”

The elemental dropped his troubled gaze to his hands, now resting once again on the table, clenched around his empty glass like somehow the motion could ground him there. He sighed miserably, his exasperation dropping away again into dismal emotion.

“That’s what kept me from doing it in the end, I guess,” Grillby frowned, “Just… not being able to say the right things. I mean… I couldn’t exactly ask for _advice_. Eventually I just gave up trying to write it. And then I gave up the walks by the river because it was pointless if I knew I wasn’t going to act on it. I don’t know how long it took but eventually I just… mellowed out. Everything stabilized I guess. I don’t know if I learned to cope with it better or if… you know… I actually _do_ feel better.”

For a few seconds Gaster thought Grillby’s story was done. Silence ate up the space between them again, where Gaster hardly breathed and Grillby refused to acknowledge the skeleton’s presence. Gaster was on the verge of saying something when Grillby took in a breath to continue one last time, and whatever Gaster was going to say died away in his throat.

“It still hits me sometimes,” the elemental admitted, “I get really dark again for no real reason. For a few days sometimes, or a few weeks others. But I haven’t tried writing anything since. It’s… I dunno… not worth trying I guess. I know I don’t have the resolve to go through with anything so I don’t even bother. Heh… if I can convince myself that I can’t even kill myself right then… you know… I’ll be too miserable to attempt, right?”

This time, Grillby _did_ finally look up at Gaster, a miserable sort of smile curling through his flame. His eyes were searching, looking for… _something_. Something Gaster couldn’t rightly discern. Something Gaster couldn’t bother trying to think about. He was too frozen. Too _scared_. He didn’t know what to say or do. What _could_ he say? What _could_ he do about this? He’d never been on this side of the equation before. _He_ was the one who felt dark and nervous. _He_ was the one that came crawling to Grillby for comfort. _He_ was the one who let the elemental wrap him up in warmth and slept until he felt better. He didn’t know… and he’d never…

Gaster had never tried to kill himself.

He’d been dark and miserable but… he didn’t have the kind of apathy it took to… no _apathy_ wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t a lack of something that caused this. It was the feeling of being overwhelmed, _trapped_ in your own body. It was the feeling that there were no other options left. Gaster had never felt that. Gaster had always had this sort of worming optimism that said something would change as long as he grinned and beared it. Sure, he’d wished before that he could stop existing for a while. But that kind of selfish, idle wish was _nothing_ compared to what Grillby had thought. That Grillby had almost _tried_.

Finally, dumbly, Gaster stammered, “I… didn’t know…”

Grillby nodded. Of course Gaster didn’t know. Grillby hadn’t _wanted_ him to know.

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?” Gaster asked, trying not to sound as wretched as he felt, fighting back the tightness in his chest that said he might cry.

“Why didn’t I?” Grillby echoed, some expression twisting through his flame that said the answer was obvious.

“Yes I - I could’ve helped!” Gaster stammered desperately, trying not to sound accusing but a little too caught up in his ragged emotions to think to say anything else, “I would have done _anything_ to help you through that Grillby. It shouldn’t have gotten that bad. I should have…”

“Gaster, I didn’t _want_ help,” Grillby said with firmness in his tone and sureness in his frown that was _terrifying_ , “I was… I _am_ disgusting. I’m disgusting for feeling the way I did and for being too weak to do anything about it - I deserved all of that I -”

Gaster leaped to his feet, slamming his hands against the table in the same jerking, hasty motion and he _screamed,_ “Shut up! You’re _wrong!”_

Grillby flinched, sinking back into his chair, looking every bit surprised and regretful. He probably felt like he’d said too much. Gaster knew that feeling. His yelling would just make it worse he _knew that_ but… he couldn’t be _tactful_ about this when he was so overwhelmed. He felt like he needed to say something _now_. He just… didn’t know _what_ _would help_.

“You don’t deserve that,” Gaster said firmly, fingers curling against the wood of the table, “ _Nobody_ deserves to go through shit like that, let alone you. _You_. You’re the backbone for _so many people_. You’re a light of hope in this stupid mess we’ve all landed ourselves into!”

Gaster ushered grandly with his arm at nothing in particular, maybe towards the door, “You listen to every monster’s problems that waltzes into your bar! You listen to _me_ whine and complain about all my stupid petty problems at work - !”

Grillby piped up with a weak flicker, “They’re not stupid.”

“Yes they are!” Gaster scowled, “They are _nothing_ compared to this! I…”

Realization hit Gaster like a punch in the gut and for a second he felt like his soul had been yanked out of his chest, “I-I… I almost lost you.”

Gaster felt a shudder pass through him, “I almost lost you and I _didn’t know_.”

Grillby gave him a pitiful sort of look, “Gaster…”

“How did I _not notice?”_ Gaster asked, feeling desperate and exasperated with himself all at once, “All the signs were _there_. I _knew_ you weren’t acting like yourself. I just didn’t realize what it meant! And you! You should have said something Grillby! We could have gotten you some _help_.”

“Gaster what was I supposed to say?” Grillby barked back defensively, his voice dipping into sarcasm and mock enthusiasm, “Oh hey, just letting you know I might kill myself today!”

“Yes! _Yes!_ ” Gaster said, his voice shaking with emotion, and Grillby blinked back at him with a strange sort of surprise, “You could have said _anything_ like that. Grillby I would have done _anything_ to help you! There are counselors and therapists and… and medication if you need it. We can _at least_ find something to keep this from happening again!”

“Gaster, calm down,” Grillby said quietly, apologetically, and Gaster winced at it, “I’m not in the same place anymore. I’ve never been that bad off since.”

“But you said it comes back,” Gaster said, his voice lowering a bit dejectedly, “What happens if it comes back just as bad? Have you thought about that?”

Grillby looked away from him again, frowning, thinking. Finally he said in a small voice, “... yes.”

“Grillby, you might not be able to handle it by yourself,” Gaster said as gently as he could manage past his hardly-contained panic, “And even if you _can_ you shouldn’t _have to_.”

“I know I just…” Grillby sighed, “I… half of me doesn’t even believe it was real.”

He blinked back up at Gaster, searching for understanding, “You know how it is, right? You’ve felt… _sort of_ like that before. It’s like you’re not in control anymore.”

Hesitantly, Gaster nodded.

“I… I thought it was normal,” Grillby continued, “I thought I was _supposed_ to feel the way I did. And looking back on it now, only _now_ do I realize how twisted up I was. It’s like something had possessed me. I wasn’t thinking straight. Only when I’m _fine_ do I look back and realize that I wasn’t back then. And… it still happens. I’m always fine long enough to think I was overreacting. And then… I slump back into it again long enough to think I was just having a good week and that I’ll always get worse, and that there’s no end.”

Grillby sighed and admitted more hesitantly, “And… I’m scared that next time I won’t stop myself. Gaster I’m… this…”

He looked up at Gaster, looking for a moment pathetic and resigned, “This is what’s going to kill me someday Gaster. I know it is.”

Gaster watched Grillby for a few long moments before he finally moved from where he’d been standing, crossing around the table to wrap up the elemental in a hug. It probably helped nothing. It was probably completely _useless_. But Gaster needed it as much as he thought Grillby might.

“That’s not going to happen,” Gaster said quietly, “We’re going to work through this. Anything you need Grillby tell me. I’ll do _anything_ , I promise. Just tell me what I can do.”

It took Grillby a second, but he hugged Gaster back, pressing the skeleton close to himself with a soft and breaking sigh. Gaster could feel the elemental’s warmth all the way down to his soul - but it wasn’t the comforting sort that he normally offered. It wasn’t the kind of sinking, clinging reassurance that Gaster knew Grillby for. This was troubled and teeming, inching its way across Gaster’s bones and crawling through the fabric of his clothes with all the jittering hesitance of a spray of sparks.

“Why are you doing this?” Grillby asked, his voice caught and strangled with emotion in his throat, “You shouldn’t be acting like this.”

Gaster pulled back out of their embrace only to see Grillby was once again refusing to look at him. His gaze dropped down into his lap, molten tears threatening to break away from his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be saying that,” Grillby mumbled, his voice trembling, “You should be telling me how disgusting I am.”

Gaster blinked at him, feeling his soul sink.

“I’m _broken_ Gaster,” Grillby continued, “Something’s _wrong_ with me. God - it was better when you were yelling at me. I screwed up. I wasn’t strong enough to pull myself out of it and s-selfish for even thinking... I was _terrible_ Gaster. I deserved to feel… I…”

Gods, now he really _was_ crying and Gaster felt like he might cry with him. This time Grillby pulled Gaster back into the hug, burying his face against the skeleton’s neck and clenching his shaking hands into the fabric of Gaster’s sweater. And Gaster hugged him back, brushing his teeth against the side of Grillby’s head in the best impression of a kiss he could manage. He wanted to comfort him. He wanted to make everything okay. He _couldn’t_. Gaster _knew_ he couldn’t. But that wouldn’t stop him from staying where he was and letting Grillby cry. If Grillby needed this, Gaster would let him have it.

“I’m sorry,” Grillby whispered.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” Gaster hummed back, “I shouldn’t have yelled. That was my fault.”

Grillby hugged him tighter.

“We’ll get you through this,” Gaster promised, and with every bit of his soul he meant it, “You shouldn’t have to feel like this, and you shouldn’t have to be scared.”

Gaster felt Grillby nod into his shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, each taking comfort in the others’ presence. Neither of them said much. Mostly Gaster just held the embrace and once or twice grazed his teeth across Grillby’s head in a kiss, hoping it would somehow help. Meanwhile his mind stumbled and reeled. He was flicking through every monster he knew who could help with depression, every study he’d ever read, any trick that claimed to help. Of course, it would always be Grillby’s choice if he wanted any of the help or not. Well, up to a point. It would be Gaster’s job to intervene if… if for some reason… Grillby couldn’t see _help_ anymore. If for some reason Grillby was back by the river.

But now wasn’t _then_. Now was just Gaster _finally realizing_ this was happening. Now as Gaster deciding he would keep his friend alive if he could. Because… Grillby was right. Gaster cared way too much. There was nothing Grillby could leave behind that would console the skeleton if Grillby were gone. He couldn’t imagine any facet of his life without the elemental somehow standing by his side through it. Suddenly realizing now how _close_ Gaster had come to losing Grillby forever… gods he was horrified. But he vowed he wouldn’t let it happen again - and prayed he could actually impact something like that.

Eventually the two broke apart more permanently, Grillby mumbling scattered apologies about his breakdown and Gaster reassuring him they weren’t needed. Gaster was a flimsy support but for now he would try his best to be reassuring. He would do what he could to remind Grillby he wasn’t broken or estranged.

That night they watched the happiest movie they could find amongst Grillby’s stash and ate reheated pizza, Gaster curling up close by Grillby’s side on the couch. Gaster fell asleep sometime before Grillby, but woke up after the movie was done and the TV had turned to static. Grillby slept through it though, the elemental probably taking some comfort in the sound of white noise breaking the silence of his house. Gaster didn’t feel nearly so comforted. He watched the writhing fuzz for a few minutes, feeling a steady nervousness and dread building in the back of his soul like nausea. In the eerie twilight of the 4am house, it felt like every shadow reached for the skeleton as he rose to his feet and switched off the television.

He didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> This feeling was relevant recently so I decided to unload it here.
> 
> Hmmm. Nervous.  
> There is a lot I could say about this, but I don't want to.  
> I will say that if you're one of my regular readers, you know a lot of what I write is deeply seated in personal experience - so for you all I will say please don't worry. This isn't nearly as relevant to my present self as it is to my past.
> 
> And to everyone reading: Never assume you can handle depression alone. Get help. Talk to someone. Talk to a professional if you can afford it. Remember you have nothing to be ashamed of if you need help.
> 
> And I'm sorry if I've offended anyone!


End file.
